


twist you up

by forkidcest



Series: the brightest stars [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Meld, Multi, Overstimulation, Psychic Abilities, Sibling Incest, Sort Of, Soulmates, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forkidcest/pseuds/forkidcest
Summary: John helps a pair of captivating strangers. They make it up to him.





	twist you up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pearlybj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlybj/gifts), [Clamdiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clamdiver/gifts).



Your name is John Egbert, and today you are finally going to talk to the girl at the tea shop.

She's been there every day this week when you passed by on your way home from school, sitting alone at the wrought-iron table furthest from the door, dressed up in black and deep purple clothes that make her look like some kind of goth princess.

She usually has her head bowed over what must be a notebook or a sketchpad or something, but today she was just gazing into the distance, seemingly at nothing, and your steps slowed without any conscious input from you when you saw her face. She's just really pretty and she seemed... sad, or wistful, or something. It made you want to go up and talk to her.

And then she looked right at you and smiled, just a little bit. It was kind of spooky! You smiled back, and waved at her, and then hurried on your way, feeling like a dork for waving at a beautiful stranger who probably wasn't even actually smiling at you, specifically.

You take the same route home the next day, and she's there again. Or still. Your steps slow again; again, she looks up and smiles at you.

A sudden gust of wind whirls down the street, scattering leaves and bits of litter, fluttering the woman's sleeves and skirt and scarf and ruffling her bright pale hair. She doesn't move, though, implacable as though untouched by the wind tugging at her clothes, smiling like a sphinx.

You take a deep breath, and cross the street.

From the sidewalk opposite her dress had looked plain black, but now that you're next to her you can see that there's some sort of lacy overlayer on the top part, what's it called, the bodice? It's all embroidered with an intricate pattern of tiny flowers and spiralling vines. It looks ornate and old-fashioned, like the swooping iron arabesques supporting the tabletop.

"Hello," she says. Her voice is low and musical and amused, and you look up abruptly as you realize with a jolt of shame that you are just standing there, looking at her dress--at her _chest_ \--like a--

"Sorry!" you say, too loudly and embarrassingly high-pitched. "I didn't mean to--I mean--Hi! I'm John!" Wow, you are totally the smoothest guy occupying this square foot of sidewalk, aren't you?

The girl smiles. She's beautiful, and there's something indulgent in her smile that makes you feel terribly young, although she doesn't look all that old herself. 

"A pleasure to meet you, John," she says, and she sounds like she really means it. "I'm Rose."

_Rose_. It suits her. You scramble for something to say, a question that isn't too personal--

"Are you a writer?"

"Well," she says wryly, "I write." She gives you a small smile, like a shared secret. "Between you and me, John, I don't think the world is ready for my genius."

You laugh, startled and delighted, and just like that your nervous tension evaporates. She's easy to talk to, it turns out, attentive and clever and _funny_ , playfully facetious, with a knack for slyly ironic self-deprecation that undercuts the intimidating effects of her beauty and obvious sharp intelligence. You haven't enjoyed a conversation this much in... you don't even know how long.

After a while, you settle into a companionable silence. You're checking movie times on your phone; Rose is gazing into the distance with unfocused eyes, stirring the dregs of her tea. The delicate clink clink clink of her spoon against the porcelain cup sounds almost like a phrase of music, and it blends into the rhythm of approaching footsteps, so when a voice speaks right behind your shoulder you jump in surprise.

"Picking up strays, Rose?"

Rose sighs delicately. "I'm terribly sorry, John," she says, "this degenerate belongs to me."

The guy slides into the chair next to her. "You know it," he says. "Hey. I'm Dave."

He's wearing a red hoodie and big aviator sunglasses that, combined, conceal about half of his face, torn black jeans, scuffed sneakers. It is a very different look from Rose's polished elegance, and he talks differently, too. Somehow, though, they look right together. And you find yourself abruptly knocked back into the awkward small talk stage.

"So, uh, what brings you to Maple Valley?"

"Reasons," Dave says.

That does not answer your question at all.

"We took the bus," Rose says, which technically answers a question you asked, but not the one you _meant_ , and you can see in her smile that she knows it.

They're messing with you. If they didn't want you to know why, they could just lie, or tell you they just felt like traveling, or something, but instead they're turning it into some kind of game, which means it isn't really rude to push, right?

"You're not gonna believe me if I tell you, kid," Dave says.

Well, you know how to answer that! "Try me."

Dave smirks at you. "Sure," he says, "you're cute, maybe a little young, but I'd hit it." Rose smacks him on the back of the head. "Ow, fine. Rose had a feeling, we hopped a Greyhound, here we are." 

That... does not make any sense at all, but weirdly, it rings true to you. (You are going to just skip right over the first thing he said. If you acknowledge it in any way you might have to think about it, and nope, that is not happening. You have enough to think about already.)

"So your... sister? had some kind of psychic vision, and you both just picked up and came up here without a plan?"

"Yep," Dave says, "that sure is a thing we did."

Your mind is boggling at how casual he is about a thing that you are pretty sure is objectively crazy. "Where are you staying?"

"We've been staying at a hostel this past week, it was alright, but we only had enough cash to cover five nights, so we bounced this morning."

"So where are you staying now?" you ask.

"Hmm," Dave says, "don't think we know. Do we know, Rose?"

"We do not," Rose says, not looking up from her book.

"Nope," Dave says, popping the p obnoxiously. "Once again we cast ourselves on the vagaries of fortune, blah blah mystical mumbo-jumbo." He tips his chair back with an ungodly screech of iron on pavement, winces, and lets it crash back down. "Oops."

That makes no sense. "You didn't even bring _money_?"

"Well, we _had_ money," Dave says, "do you know how fucking much shit costs in the Seattle area? I sure as fuck didn't. It's cool though, we'll figure something out, we always do. Hell, it's not even cold yet. No big."

What the fuck. Are they _homeless_? 

Rose looks up, seeming to sense your worry. "There's no cause for concern, John," she says. "Despite the impression he gives off, my brother is both competent and resourceful--"

"Hey!"

"--and I have a number of useful talents of my own. We will be perfectly alright."

That does not sound perfectly all right to you.

You're prepared to wrack your brain for a solution to this conundrum, but the answer springs to mind almost immediately.

"Jake!" You didn't mean to blurt it out like that. Oops. That's embarrassing. You rush to explain. "Um, that is, my cousin, Jake, he's out of town--out of the country, actually--for a while, and his apartment is empty. You could stay there!"

"We really shouldn't impose," Rose demurs.

"But we absolutely will," Dave says.

You maybe should not have volunteered your cousin's place to house a couple of strangers you know nothing about, but, well. You weren't exaggerating when you said the place is empty. It's not in the best neighborhood, so Jake toted his big flatscreen TV and massive DVD collection over to your place before he left. He took his computer with him, of course, and Jade got his comics. There's nothing valuable in his apartment, just some outdated appliances and battered second-hand furniture, and that's stuff anyone can get for free this time of year just by driving through the student housing areas near UW and taking stuff off the curb. That's how Jake got most of it, after all.

It'll be fine.

* * * * *

You're going to the apartment after school again, as you have almost every afternoon this week. Rose and Dave are really fun to hang out with! They are good at seeming aloof and mysterious at first, but they are actually both giant dorks.

Which isn't to say they're just regular people, because they really, really aren't. They're super weird. But they're dorktastically nerdy weirdos. And they're hilarious! You are trying not to laugh out loud on the bus, but it's hard to keep from snickering while you scroll through the latest group chat on your phone.

TG: john you gotta watch out for rose  
EB: i'm pretty sure she can take care of herself, dave!  
TT: Indeed.  
TG: yeah thats not even in the same zip code as what i meant  
TG: this isnt some old fashioned you better take care of my darling sister bullshit  
TG: more like  
TG: watch out dude she wants to feed on your soul  
TT: You're not funny, Dave.  
TG: fuck you im hilarious  
TG: also that wasnt a denial  
EB: you guys are so ridiculous!  
TT: John has a lovely soul, can you blame me?  
TG: nah  
TG: but like  
TG: dude  
TG: sis  
TG: youre coming on a little strong is all  
TG: youve only just met  
EB: yeah rose, you can't just steal a guy's soul right away!  
EB: that's got to be some kind of faux pas in the soul stealing community.  
TT: Oh, I don't intend to steal it, John.  
TG: only because she literally cant  
TG: how do you not already know this john  
TG: dont you watch movies  
TG: entities beyond mortal imagination cant just gank your soul whenever they want  
TG: you can give it away or sell it or lose it in a bet but like  
TG: anything that wants your soul has to bargain for it  
TG: this is like supernatural economics 101  
EB: we haven't covered that in social studies, dave!  
TG: the american education system is a travesty everyone knows that  
TG: fortunately for you youve got an opportunity to get schooled by an expert  
EB: you're right! i'd better ask rose.  
TG: you little shit  
EB: hehehe  
EB: she is way spookier than you, dave!  
TT: Thank you, John, that's very sweet of you.  
EB: sooo what do you think my soul is worth? i wouldn't want to get ripped off!  
TG: well there are lots of things you can get for a good quality soul  
TT: It depends on what sort of entity you're barganing with, of course. Wealth is a classic, but I find it awfully pedestrian.  
TG: also youre flat broke  
TG: nobodys gonna pony up their soul for a couple of crumpled twenties and a handful of miscellaneous change  
TG: when you make it big and are rolling in royalties youll shell it out for soul juice dont lie  
TT: I thought I was meant to be advising John, Dave.  
TT: He ought to be aware that souls can be exchanged for things of greater value, things that cannot be bought with mere money.  
TT: Luck, insight, knowledge of the future, youth, beauty...  
TG: unimaginable sexual pleasure  
TG: thats my favorite  
TT: Thank you, Dave, your input is indispensable as always.

You hop off the bus as soon as the doors open and jog the three blocks to the apartment. It's just Dave right now, Rose is probably off writing at a cafe or something, which means movie time! You flop down on the ratty sofa and dig your laptop out of your bag, and you've just opened your mouth to ask Dave what he's in the mood for when he interrupts you.

"So John, what do you say, can I convince you to part with your soul for the low low price of the absolute pinnacle of sexual pleasure?" 

You laugh. He looks ridiculous when he waggles his eyebrows like that, like a lecherous caricature in a cartoon. "What kind of sucker do you take me for, Dave? I'd never sell my soul without knowing what I was getting for it! Do you offer free samples?"

Dave smirks at you and then he's sinking gracefully to the floor in front of you, sliding his hands up your calves and pushing your knees apart. You have no idea what the fuck is happening right now, it can't possibly be what it looks like, Dave's jokestery flirting was just a lot of silly banter, wasn't it? He's just fucking with you right now, kicking your ass at gay chicken, that's got to be what's happening here--

"You drive a hard bargain, John," he says, "you're lucky you're cute," and now he's unbuckling your belt. What the fuck. 

"Dave," you choke out, "what--"

He doesn't even look up at you, intent on his task. He's unbuttoning your shorts, wrapping those long fingers around your dick and pulling it out and this is way farther than you thought he'd take this, holy shit, you thought it was a joke, but Dave is on his knees with your stiffening dick in his hand, leaning in, opening his mouth--

He hums as he slides down, all the way down, and it vibrates through you and it feels amazing. He sucks as he pulls back up until it's just the head of your dick in his hot mouth, his tongue playing with your foreskin, and then he's going back down again.

You hear yourself moan. You can't stop staring at him. God, it feels so good...

Time seems to slow and stretch, prolonging the sensation--

The door opens. You freeze. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh--

" _Dave_ ," Rose says reproachfully. "You started without me? I'm hurt."

Dave meets your horrified gaze and winks. He pulls off your dick excruciatingly slowly, sucking the whole time, and disconnects with a smacking sound. "Sorry, sis," he says. He does not sound sorry at all. "I couldn't resist." 

You are paralyzed on the sofa, completely at a loss. You feel like you need to say something, apologize, maybe, but Dave sucks your dick back into his mouth just as you open yours, and all that escapes is a strangled groan.

Rose crosses the tiny room and sits down on the sofa, facing you. Her dark lips are curved in that same mischievous little smile. "I apologize for my brother's lack of manners," she says, "I do hope you will forgive us," and she lays a cool hand on your cheek, and kisses you.

You had thought, when you thought about it at all, that your first kiss would be sweet, and exciting, and maybe a little scary. It is all of these things, but it is also somewhat overshadowed by the overwhelming experience of your first blowjob. Rose kisses you softly, slowly, and pulls back just a few inches. You can feel her breathing evenly against your lips. Your own breaths are quick and ragged, little gasping moans leaking out as Dave continues to apply himself to your dick. You are such a mess right now. But Rose is smiling at you, stroking your cheek lightly with the pad of her thumb, and leaning in to kiss you again.

This time, her mouth opens against yours, and her tongue teases at your parted lips, and everything gets more intense. You are drowning in a sudden flood of sensation as you kiss back, eagerly, clumsily. It's too much to feel, hot and bright and electric, and you're coming harder than you ever have, harder than you imagined you could, gasping desperately. You almost miss the way Rose shudders in tandem with you, but you can't miss the high humming moan that shivers out of her like an echo of your own climax, doubling back and back on itself in an impossible crescendo of pleasure until you feel you might shatter. Breaking away from her feels like falling back into your own body. You're slumped on the sofa, completely wrung out, hardly able to think.

Dave sits back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smirks at you. 

His face is flushed and his hair is mussed and he's hard in his jeans, you can see it, and when he speaks the hoarse rasp of his voice makes you shiver. You don't even process the words, too overwhelmed with the sensations suffusing you.

It feels as though it lasted for hours. God, what time is it? You're supposed to be home for dinner at seven, but you don't think you'll be able to move anytime soon.

"How long?" you ask, half expecting your voice to be hoarse from moaning. You sound like you normally do, though, just a little winded.

Dave glances at his bare wrist. "About ten minutes."

What? "That's not--"

"It is," Rose says beside you. She holds up your cell phone. "See?" 

"So don't worry," Dave says. There's something sharp in his smile, something hungry. "We have plenty of time."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Stay tuned for more. ;)


End file.
